


Christmas Traditions

by space_squirrel



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_squirrel/pseuds/space_squirrel
Summary: Sometimes old traditions need to fall away to make way for new ones.





	Christmas Traditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LauraEMoriarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraEMoriarty/gifts).



* * *

**December 15, 2189**

James is humming under his breath as he walks down he Citadel’s busy streets, artificial snow falling softly and coating everything in a warm, magical white glow.

The package he’s carrying weighs heavy in his hands, and he can’t believe he managed to find its contents this close to Christmas. It took three hours and twice as many stores, but finally, finally he’d managed to find the perfect angel tree topper: just like his abuela had placed on her tree every year.

He hopes Shepard likes it. He knows she’s not religious, knows she’s not traditional, to say the least, but he wants to do this right.

It’s their third Christmas together, but the first that they’ve celebrated together. After all, it’s not like there was really room to have Christmas in the middle of the war... and last year, Christmas fell just mere months after their victory, but Shepard— James swallows heavily, shaking the thought away as he keys in the code to their apartment. He doesn’t like to think about those days, about her injuries, not when she’s here and alive and breathing and _his_.

He swings open the door and steps inside, stopping dead in his tracks as he takes in the scene. The tree is up, though just barely, tinsel and lights and decorations tracked from one end of the room to the other. Shepard, predictably, is standing in the middle, a frustrated look on her face as she grumbles over a clump of lights, trying (and failing, if he’s being honest) at untangling the mess.

She turns, and brightens instantly when she sees James, and he can’t help but smile back.

“You’ll never believe what I found today,” they say in unison, and Shepard grins widely at him.

“You first,” she says, as James sets the box he’d been carrying down. He’s eager to show her his tree topper, but he’s just as eager to hear her news, so he shakes his head.

“Let’s save the best for last,” he quips, and though Shepard rolls her eyes, there’s also a sparkle in them as she triumphantly pulls something out of a bag on the table and thrusts it at him.

“LOOK!” She exclaims, raising an eyebrow in anticipation as James takes the plastic object and rotates it in his hands. It’s the tackiest Christmas ornament he’s ever seen - a giant, pink, glittering plastic Blasto wearing a Santa hat, complete with a beard and little presents by his “feet”.

“Isn’t it perfect?” She asks, babbling away about how cute the ornament is and how she can’t wait to put it in the best spot on the tree.

The ornament certainly doesn’t match his idea of a traditional Christmas, but hell, if it makes her this happy he’ll let her hang the thing front and centre if that’s what makes her smile.

Shepard pauses, staring expectantly at James, and he realizes he had gotten lost in thought and tuned out half of what she was saying.

“Well?” She prompts, nudging his foot with her toe. “Show me yours!”

Grinning, James passes her the box and she unwraps it, gingerly pulling the ceramic angel from its protective case and studying it.

“This is pretty,” She says carefully, and he can tell she might not really mean it, but also knows there’s more to it.

“It’s for the top of the tree,” he offers, moving to stand behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before resting his head on her shoulder. “My grandmother had one like this when I was a kid.”

“It’s nice,” she agrees, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I’ve always wanted to have Blasto at the top of a tree...” she trails off, turning her head to the side and glancing up at him as James realizes what it is he missed earlier.

Blasto. She was so excited to put that ugly pink _Blasto_ at the top of their first ever tree. He fights the urge to frown, choosing his next words carefully.

Shepard is a spitfire, with a stubborn streak like he’s never seen and a plan for everything. Of course Christmas would be no different. Especially not her first _real_ Christmas.

He knows that she never really had a proper Christmas, not when she grew up on the streets; not when she spent her life in and out of foster care and orphanages in London. And tough as she is, he also knows she always dreamed of that perfect family when she was younger, He wants to give her the Christmas she always dreamed of... but tradition is important to him. And he wants it to be important to her, too.

“Maybe we can take turns with the tree topper,” he offers, and Shepard nods slowly.

“...can it be Blasto first?” She asks, and she looks so hopeful, looking up at him through long, doe-eyed lashes all he can do is smile and agree.

The room is filled with laughter and love as they decorate the tree, sipping on hot chocolate and listening to Christmas carols.

As they stand back and admire their handiwork together, James wraps an arm around Shepard’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of her forehead. It may not be the picture perfect tree he’d imagined days earlier, with the lopsided tinsel on the left, the strung-too-closely lights on the right, and the pink Blasto on top— but it’s here, and it’s _theirs_ , so that makes it all right. Special, even.

Besides, James thinks, a wry smile crossing his lip as he glances at the angel. There’s always next year.

——

**December 15, 2190**

James can’t help but shake his head and roll his eyes at Shepard, who is standing in front of their fully trimmed Christmas tree, arms crossed, lower lip pushed out in a full pout.

“Come onnnnnnn,” she whines, looking up at him through long lashes. “Let’s put Blasto Santa back up this year.”

James sighs before speaking, but his voice is light, and though he knows he’s already lost this fight, he asks the question anyway. “What happened to alternating years?”

“You know the crew will get a kick out of it when they arrive,” Shepard replies, a smirk crossing her lips before she continues. “Especially Garrus and Tali’s little one.”

He can’t help but smile at that - she knows he’s a sucker when it comes to kids, especially their friends’ two-year-old son.

“Fine,” he agrees, and Shepard squeals in excitement before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly.

——

**December 20, 2191**

“Blasto again, huh?” Jack asks, sliding up next to James and taking a long sip of her beer.

Before he can reply, Wrex is bellowing with laughter. “Everyone knows a battlemaster of Shepard’s status _always_ gets her way.”

Cortez gives him a quick glance, and James swallows down his annoyance. Blasto makes Shepard happy, he rationalizes, and that’s what matters most to him. Her happiness, even if it means another year of staring at that god-awful ornament on top of the tree, instead of the pristine, still like-new angel tucked away in the closet.

“Maybe next year,” he shrugs, and at that moment Shepard catches his eye from across the room, where she’s holding Oriana Lawson’s newborn baby boy, and she smiles widely at him.

He can feel his heart beat faster as he watches how natural she is with the child, coddling the baby close to her and cooing over his tiny hands.

It’s not secret that James wants kids - and if he’s being honest, wants them yesterday. But Shepard keeps making excuses: saying she isn’t ready to give up active duty; isn’t ready to be a mother; is worried she won’t be a good one.

He gets her apprehension - after all, it’s not like she had a stable childhood, had a loving mother and father and family growing up. But as he watches her interact with their mismatched, rapidly expanding, crazy Normandy family he knows the kind of mother she’ll be. The best kind.

And that night, when she rolls over and snuggles into him, palming him through his boxers and pressing a searing kiss to his lips, he hopes beyond hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll be expanding their own little family soon.

——

**December 15, 2192**

When James arrives home, he finds Shepard sitting in front of their untrimmed Christmas tree, two mugs of hot chocolate carefully set out on the table.

“Ready to get this tree trimming party started?” She asks, eyes glistening, and James can’t help but smile at his wife.

“On one condition,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek and heading to the storage closet, rummaging around until he finds what he’s looking for.

“This year we’re putting _this_ on top of the tree,” he says as he emerges, setting the angel down on their table.

She tilts her head sideways, and he can’t help but huff out an annoyed breath, knowing they’re about to have the same damn argument for the fourth year in a row.

He steels himself for the plea he knows is coming, resolved to get that angel on top of the tree this year no matter what.

Shepard reaches behind her, pulling out a small wrapped package.

“I thought we’d do something a little different,” she says, handing it to him and smiling.

He glances down, confused, rotating the gift in his hands.

“Go on, open it,” she urges, and he raises an eyebrow at her as he unties the ribbon and cuts through the wrapping paper, ripping it off.

He opens to box inside and pulls the object out, holding in a sigh. It’s another Blasto Santa - but this time, there’s a second, tiny hanar clinging to Blasto’s back, a bottle in one of its long arms.

His confusion quickly disapates as he reads the engraving on the bottom of the tree topper: _Baby’s First Christmas._

James gasps, his eyes filling with tears as he looks at Shepard, who is smiling at him, her own eyes misty, one hand resting on her stomach.

He quickly closes the gap between them, grasping her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers. When they break for air, he wraps her in a tight hug.

“I love you,” he breathes, and he can feel her smile into his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Daddy-to-be.”

James presses a kiss to her head before pulling back and looking at her seriously. “But next year we use the angel.”

“We’ll see what Baby Vega thinks about that,” she replies, and he already knows it’s a lost cause... but someone how, he’s okay with that. Because here in this moment, Blasto tree topper and all, he’s the happiest he’s ever been.

 

* * *

 

 

**A/N: Merry Christmas, Laura!! A little birdie told me you enjoyed the family fight holiday trope, so I tried to put a different spin on it (with some fluff fluff all the fluff) since these two don’t quite have a traditional family. I hope you like it!!**


End file.
